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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043789">accidentally competent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed'>ThirstyForRed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Schadenfreude [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon-Typical Violence, Footnotes, M/M, Nathaniel touches Roderick's ribs and it's not gay, Oxenfurt Archives, grave hag, we will make it gay, yet - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:07:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirstyForRed/pseuds/ThirstyForRed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Roderik de Wett, knight of the Order of Flaming Rose, and reverend Nathaniel Pastodi met that day for the first time. Truly the beginning of something special.<br/>For oxenfurt-archives Saovine Fanfiction Week, prompt Beasts. (It counts bc there's a hag here)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nathaniel Pastodi/Roderick de Wett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Schadenfreude [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>accidentally competent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm not even going to begin explaining why this rare pair, but I will say that it takes place in my <a href="https://thirstyforred.tumblr.com/tagged/Schadenfreude-fic">Schadenfreude AU</a>, a few weeks before the story actually starts :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><a id="return1" name="return1"></a>Roderick de Wett wasn't a happy man. It might have something to do with the weight of reality that constantly crushed him. Or just the northern weather, unpredictable and so much colder than what he, as a Nilfgaardian noble, grew up used to.<sup><b><a href="#note1">1</a></b></sup> </p><p>So there he was, unhappy, soaking wet, standing in the ankles deep mud and fulfilling his holy duty. There's a possibility that he would feel better about this mission of clearing and renewal of blessings on the graveyard just outside of Novigrad, if not for his companion. Reverend Nathaniel Pastodi was cheerful like a pig in the rain. Which, Roderick thought to himself, he even resembled in looks, especially with this big bald head.</p><p><a id="return2" name="return2"></a>Roderick, currently the only knight of the Order of Flaming Rose stationed  in the city, was here just as a formality, security maybe. But thankfully no one expected him to actually pray for the souls and perform rituals, which he barely remembered and cared even less for. He joined knighthood to avoid the unfortunate fate<sup><b><a href="#note2">3</a></b></sup>, not to become a priest. Pastodi was better suited for this task anyway. His main job as the revered wasn't actually spreading the faith, but to oversee the city's morgue and crematorium, and perform the funeral masses. Morbid. Necessary, but absolutely not a profession description of a person one would consider inviting to their soiree.</p><p>Nathaniel walked around the small cemetery on the outskirts of one of the villages, singing psalms and trying to shine the torch's light on all tombstones. However, because of the hellishly vicious and cold rain, the miniature Eternal Flame they had here was just a small spot of light, barely illuminating his path.</p><p>Roderick opted to stay partially hidden underneath the arch of a single crypt, but with every minute of simply standing there, he was freezing more and more, and regretting this decision. For a second he even considered stepping inside the crypt, but the stench coming from the slightly ajar doors was just too much. Something was clearly rooting inside and he didn't want to have anything to do with it.</p><p><a id="return9" name="return9"></a>It reminded him of sewers underneath Vyzima and all monstrosities that lurked in the dark corridors and disgusting water. Roderick had to wander there only a handful of times, even less actually fight off creatures, but the smell and bad memories stayed with him, and will probably stay forever.<sup><b><a href="#note9">4</a></b></sup></p><p>Nathaniel was nearing him in his glacially slow walk, clearly deep in the prayers, when everything was flashed by the lightning bolt, and barely a second later, skies seemed to be torn apart by powerful thunder. Reverend stopped in his tracks, eyes wide open, and then his torch finally went out, engulfing both of them and the cemetery in complete darkness.</p><p>"I think we should stop here and return to the village. Look for some shelter for the night," said Roderick. Or at least wanted to, but suddenly he was hit from behind by the door to the crypt swinging wide open and partially exploding against his right side. With air knocked out of lungs, he fell to his knees and wheezed like a weasel. Something big and dark, and supposedly very muscular ran past him.</p><p>"What the fuck is that?!" shouted Nathaniel and first tried to swing his useless torch at it, but since the creature was way out of his range, he simply threw it. A sturdy piece of wood hit the attacker right in the head with a loud 'boink' noise. The creature took a few steps back, stunned with this surprisingly effective attack, and with the next flash of lightning, they could see it in its full glory.</p><p><a id="return3" name="return3"></a>From what little Roderick studied of monster lore<sup><b><a href="#note3">5</a></b></sup> he managed to recognize the monster as a hag, likely a one of cemetery kind. Other than that, he couldn't remember much else...</p><p>Hag, with her maw wide open, teeth and monstrous tongue dripping with saliva, whipped her head from Nathaniel back to Roderick. The knight, still on his knees, but trying to get back up, was now the nearer and easier target. Hag made some crackling noises and took a step towards him. Roderick scrambled to his feet and pulled out a sword right before the creature got in range of her next attack. When she shot her tongue towards him, de Wett instinctively parried the attack, severing the organ before it even reached him.</p><p>Hag screeched in pain, grabbing her bleeding tongue and stuffing it back inside her maw, not even looking at the two humans. Roderick seized this opportunity, and with a sword ready to strike, he circled the monster, while shielding his right side and putting the other man behind himself. He hoped the reverend would get out of his stupor and be clever enough to run away back to the village, while he still had a chance.</p><p>Grave hag, blood still flowing from her tongue and in between teeth, made yet another horrifying sound and jumped to slash at Roderick with her razor-sharp claws. He sidestepped just in time to avoid getting his left arm ripped in ribbons and he swung a sword. This time, with a wet sound, he struck the grave hag right in the neck. He pulled out and with another chop separated her horrid head from the rest of the body.</p><p><a id="return4" name="return4"></a>Nathaniel, who still stood there like a pillar of salt, was speechless. "I’m no longer homophobic,” he thought to himself. “This man is my future husband.”<sup><b></b></sup><b><a href="#note4">7</a></b> </p><p><a id="return5" name="return5"></a>They stood there silently for a few more seconds, contemplating what just happened, but with another lightning bolt hitting way too near, Nathaniel swore in a manner that would get him excommunicated<sup><b></b></sup><b><a href="#note5">8</a></b> and grabbed Roderick by arm. Then he marched them both to the village, to the first cottage he found there and terrorized owners of the said cottage to leave it behind and, for a night, move in with neighbors.</p><p>Only when they were left alone, Roderick realized how not only his whole right side hurt, but also the rest of the torso, and that every breath seemed to make him spasm. He slid to the chair left in the middle of the room and gave himself five seconds for a panic attack. Mostly about dying here, in some backwater village, half a day away from the laughable metropolis of the North, with the ugly face of reverend Nathaniel Pastodi looking right at him. And then he got over himself and started to struggle with the fasteners of his armor.</p><p>"I think I broke my ribs," he managed to wheeze pathetically.</p><p>Nathaniel snorted at that, which was unhelpful and unprompted, but moved to unclasp and unbuckle everything that Roderick couldn't reach. Then was the gambeson, but when the shirt was grabbed to be pulled off, Roderick started to struggle. Nathaniel simply slapped his hands off.</p><p>"I need to see them to say if they're just broken or maybe if it's something more serious."</p><p>"Medic could do that..." whined Roderick.</p><p>"You could wait for a medic to look you over when we get to the city tomorrow, and likely die before anyone can help you with a punctured lung. Or..." Nathaniel once again grabbed his shirt forcefully, "I can do this. Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I have experience with broken bones," he said with an absolutely untrustworthy twinkle in his blue eyes.</p><p><a id="return6" name="return6"></a>Roderick swallowed, which, yet again, hurt, and let the reverend do whatever he wanted. Nathaniel raised the shirt just enough to see the chest and put rest over Roderick's head, effectively blocking his vision. Roderick only sighed and tried not to think too hard about the horrifying state his ribs might be in.<sup><b></b></sup><b><a href="#note6">10</a></b> He even tried to stay still, wiggling only a bit when he felt icy cold fingers moving up and down his right side.</p><p><a id="return7" name="return7"></a>But when those fingers pressed more forcefully, it elicited a very undignified sound from Roderick. One that surely was a moan of pain.<sup><b></b></sup><b><a href="#note7">11</a></b> </p><p>Nathaniel immediately pulled back, even stepped to the side, and cleared his throat in a manner that suggested he will have a lot of thinking to do in the next few days. Maybe even some moral or theological conundrum to solve. Spend some time on the soul-searching.</p><p>In the meantime, Roderick, who was an adult man with no shame, pulled the shirt from his face, and still holding it high, looked at his ribs. He was bruised, but fine.</p><p>"Only one seems to be broken, the rest is simply bruised." Nathaniel started to move around the room, picking up blankets and throwing them in two piles, each on either side of the room, with the clear intention of sleeping at least five feet apart. "You already have an impressive bruise, but it doesn't look like actual internal bleeding."</p><p>"Yeah, I do bruise easily," said Roderick with the cadence and smirk of the man who indeed bruised easily and knew it.</p><p>Nathaniel ignored it and the rest of the night passed in the complete and boring calm. Except for a few troublingly near lightning strikes followed by unholy loud thunders. But at no point, their cottage was damaged, so it's really as if nothing happened. In the morning the reverend and knight found their horses and went back to Novigrad, exchanging only a few words during the few hours long ride. In the city, they said their goodbyes, each going in their own direction, Pastodi hoping that they will never meet again, de Wett that he won't have to pay the bill at the hospital.</p><p>Of course, saw each other the very next day, during the mass in the Great Temple.<sup><b><a href="#note8">12</a></b></sup> </p>
<hr/><p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup><b>1</b></sup> Which, to be perfectly honest, doesn't say much, since the Nilfgaardian Empire grew so vast in recent decades that it stretched over half of the continent and at least four distinctive climate zones. Roderick of course meant weather in Nilfgaard right in the heart of the Empire<sup><b>2</b></sup>, the capital, the City of Golden Towers.</p><p><sup><b>2</b></sup> That's just saying - the City of Nilfgaard is actually far to the south, as far as one can go before landing in the Ofir and realizing that in fact, no - not every road leads to Nilfgaard. Thankfully, some lead out of it. <sup><a href="#return1">return to text</a></sup></p><p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a><sup><b>3</b></sup> "The unfortunate fate" here stands for "miserable demise", which stands for "unpeaceful passing", which stands for "being assassinated on orders of enemies of one's father, a known traitor to the Empire". <sup><a href="#return2">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note9" name="note9"></a><sup><b>4</b></sup> Not smell - that thankfully did go away after 3 baths and drowning himself in perfumes. <sup><a href="#return9">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note3" name="note3"></a><sup><b>5</b></sup> The only textbook Jacques de Aldersberg, the Grand Master of the Order, considered to hold any value, was an old text written by a scholar who also claimed to be a prophet. It was dense and dull text filled with references to many nonexisting things like for example weird creatures called giraffes or horseless carriages that would go by itself.<sup><b>6</b></sup></p><p><sup><b>6</b></sup> Roderick also didn't particularly like the scholar Alvin and his outlandish theories, because text repetitively referenced to Earth as a spherical, and not a flat plane. <sup><a href="#return3">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note4" name="note4"></a><sup><b>7</b></sup> At the time his mind was absolutely blank, free of singular thought, empty and vast like a space between the stars. But if he had a bit more of emotional intelligence and knew what the Destiny had in store for him, he might think just that. Maybe even try to imagine that spring wedding. <sup><a href="#return4">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note5" name="note5"></a><sup><b>8</b></sup> That could happen if not for the fact the person with actual power to do this, Hierarch Hemmelfart, had been heard not only speaking worse but also His Holiness claimed that he himself invented some of the more vulgar obscenities.<sup><b>9</b></sup></p><p><sup><b>9</b></sup> Although the sources on that last claim are people frequenting Whoreson's Arena, so quite obviously they're not known as trustworthy. They all cheat in poker. <sup><a href="#return5">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note6" name="note6"></a><sup><b>10</b></sup> Or about how this kind of bedside manners reminded him of Adda's and every time when the princess patched him up after she got a bit more careless with her nails. Or teeth. Or just in general. <sup><a href="#return6">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note7" name="note7"></a><sup><b>11</b></sup> And what else would it be? Considering the context and Roderick's past experiences... <sup><a href="#return7">return</a></sup></p><p><a id="note8" name="note8"></a><sup><b>12</b></sup> They didn't talk, barely nodded at each other, and then spent the entirety of mass eye-fucking through the whole width of the main nave. Hubert Rejk spent the service wishing he could kill and eat them both.</p>
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